Three surveys of the U.S. scene are vital full of hope
Every two years, the Whitney Biennial sails round and is promptly declared by its critics to be sinking. Look, the mast has gone! The hull has sprung, the captain is drunk, and the ship's macaw has taken over the chartroom! The pumps cannot keep up with the gurgling inflow of banality! Heavens, the parallels with Western civilization itself are too evident to resist! Not only are things not what they used to be, but it is so long since they were what they were...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
